A Rabbit's Heart
by xSmittenKittenx
Summary: I'd dreamed of falling for years but never actually reached the bottom. And now that I had? I missed the feeling of the air on my skin. My own take on the 'Girl falls into SPN Universe' story. Eventual Destiel, multiple fanon theories, no current OC/Canon.


**Hello and welcome to my story A Rabbit's Heart! The title comes from a song by Florence + The Machine, if you're curious. This is my first Supernatural fanfiction, and I'm not entirely caught up with season 8 at this point so if I ever do something that doesn't really follow canon, I apologize. Because I will, undoubtedly.**

**Anyway, this fic will be extremely OC centric, but their will be other character's POV's. It's also my take on a 'girl from our world gets sent to the SPN universe,' with a twist. While the twist isn't horribly uncommon, I'd like to think my way of doing it is at least interesting~! Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you like it.**

_**Warnings: I may at some point include male/male or female/female pairings. There will be violence and occasional gore in the stories. Other warnings may be put in as the story progresses.**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, even though that would be the best thing in the history of ever.**_

* * *

I could feel it. The wind, wrapping around my body, plummeting.

_I'm falling._

My hands raised towards the sky, a myriad of colors. Purple, blue, red, white-

_Help me._

A scream is ripped from my throat, but the sound is stolen by the rushing air.

_I don't want to fall._

Being ripped to pieces slowly, being torn in half.

_It hurts, it hurts, it hurts._

Colliding with the ground.

_HELP-_

_~A Rabbit's Heart~_

"Sie sind das essen und wir sind die jaeger!"

I sat up in bed in a flurry, gripping my necklace as my chest heaved. The loud sound of music blaring echoed around the small room – Japanese? - my alarm. I groaned, rubbing my face with one hand as I blindly felt on my bedside table for my phone.

Good morning, self.

Picking the cell up, I swiped my thumb across the screen, disabling the alarm and squinting down at the time. 6:00am. Why does a time this early even exist? I yawned, throwing the cellular device lazily onto my comforter, rolling my head before grabbing my glasses and heading to the bathroom.

Brush your teeth, comb your hair, foundation on acne, eyeliner, deodorant, chapstick. Walking back into my room I opened my closet door, picking out a random t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

Grab socks, straighten shirt, fix necklace, put on vans, grab backpack.

I was a creature of habit, I supposed. Same routine every school day. There really wasn't anything else to do – be a rebel and get dressed before brushing my teeth? Not worth the effort.

I sighed, glancing at the mirror on my wall for a lingering moment before going downstairs. I would prefer just staying in my room until the bus came but no, Mom would get annoyed if I didn't eat breakfast. And I had to eat breakfast at the table, after all, so I could say grace.

Fumbling down the stairs in the dark, I couldn't help but wonder if God would even care if we thanked him for food, if he actually existed. I mean, shouldn't he have better things to do?

The dining room was picturesque for an average four person family. Six seats, the extras for guests or relatives, a fruit bowel in the center with plastic apples and bananas and a cross on the wall. It made me sick to my stomach, more so than the smell of cooking meat filtering in from the attached kitchen. Perfect little family.

Well, we we're better off than the Winchesters at least. That wasn't really saying much though.

"Leah? Is that you?" A woman's voice called – Mom's. Of course it wasn't Leah. I was down first every day, yet she always asked it.

"No, Mom, it's me." I sighed, sitting down near the window, my bag leaning against the wall as I served myself a waffle and an apple, looking mournfully at the empty seats. Why did I have to wait? For her, that is. She never waited for me.

"Honey, is Leah up yet? Did you hear her moving around?" Mom asked, peeking her head inside the room, her burgundy hair streaked with gray pulled up into a bun. I shrugged, staring down at my hands. I heard her long-suffering sigh.

"Honestly, if you weren't so lazy we wouldn't have to-"

"No need Momma, I'm here!" I stiffened in my seat, eyes darting over to the staircase where she stood – Leah. Perfect Leah. Shoulder-less sweater and tights, light brown hair pulled up into a high-ponytail, her expression positively sparkling. She glanced my way, her blue eyes meeting mine and I flinched back at the look in them.

"Morning," She chirped, eyebrows raising slightly at my appearance. When she looked away I reached up to touch my hair – dark brown strands cut choppily. Ugly.

_"Just let me cut it!"_

_"Leah, no, you don't know what you're-"_

_"I'll tell Mom you didn't let me-"_

_"But I didn't do anything-"_

_**Snip.**_

I clenched my fists, hunching my shoulders. What was an appetite? Mine seemed to have disappeared.

_~A Rabbit's Heart~_

I never knew if I loved school or if I hated it. Eight hours a day, five days a week. And I wasn't a social person, to be frank. I preferred my shows, my books, my fictional characters to real people. Not because I was one of those, "Hate those who don't like what I like!" kind of people. I just didn't know how to communicate with them.

I didn't care about One Direction, or the dance Friday, or what the Kardashian's were up to. I didn't care if I looked like crap or that my hair straightener broke or that I didn't have enough money to buy the shoes I wanted. I didn't understand.

I wanted to talk about the mentalities of characters, and their relationships and magic and the little tiny secrets of the universe. I wanted to squeal of my OTPs and make bad puns and have someone who would listen-

But I was from a small town in Kentucky, and no one really wanted to talk to the quiet girl in the back of class.

Because that one seat in the corner of the room was always my spot. With an 'R' last name, my assigned seats were always near the area and I'd developed switching seats down to an exact art.

Every class I would doodle on my notes and think about things I've read, places I want to go and the things I want to do. My imagination was so much better than everything out there.

"Royal, Ariel." I heard my name called – mispronounced, of course, but called. We had a substitute anyway, a chubby old man with a handlebar mustache.

"It's pronounced Roy-lee. And I go by Aria." I called back quietly. He nodded and I glanced down to my paper, badly drawn Castiel and Dean chibis holding hands.

Yes, life was much less interesting.

I never know whether my teachers hate me or not.

Sometimes they'd send me pitying looks from across the lunchroom as I sit in the corner, head in a book, but sometimes I'd hear them purposefully call on me in class, face twisting because I'm 'Not listening again, Royle!'

Do they like making me talk for some sadistic reason? Why is it that if you have a broken leg you can get out of gym, but if you have anxiety you still have to present to the class. School never makes sense.

A lot of things don't.

_~A Rabbit's Heart~_

I usually rode the bus home. To and from school, five days a week. Me, my habitual little self, had rarely broken the pattern – sick days and doctors appointments aside. There was no reason to not ride it.

And then I had to walk. It was for a stupid reason – my Visual Arts teacher, a preppy lady, had kept me after to talk about me not paying attention in class and, 'wasting my potential' as she so eloquently put. If badly draw, disproportionate anime characters showed potential, I'm scared to see bad art.

By the time I'd walked outside, it had been to an empty bus loop, exhaust fumes lingering in the air. I'd flipped open my phone, sliding my thumb across the screen before I remembered – Mom had picked Leah up early to take her up to a recital in Cincinnati, and Dad was in a meeting today.

You didn't want to interrupt Dad's meeting.

So walking it was.

I hated walking. I hated most physical exercise in general, to be honest. I was short at 5'3" and not _fat, _but a little fluffy. Not a dancer like Leah. Just big hips and a round face. And, coincidentally, most definitely not built for walking.

The dead leaves crackled under my feet as I walked along the street, wishing in vain for a jacket. Or hoodie. Or sweater. Short-sleeves in October didn't work well, I noted as I rubbed my arms.

A gust of wind blew, scattering yellow and red leaves through the air. It even smelt like autumn – dead leaves and pumpkins and other yummy things.

The wind blew harder I noted, grimacing as I stumbled slightly. It would be just my luck to break my nose. Maybe Mother Dear would get her darling angel to fix it for me.

I could hear the crack already.

I yelped as I felt a push – an actual, solid push – come out of no where, shoving me forward. I tripped over my shoes, throwing my arms out and hoping that my little vision didn't come true.

And it didn't.

Because it was dark.

_~A Rabbit's Heart~_

I hit the ground, skinning the palms of my hands and hissing at the sting. Glancing around, I blinked a few times, my eyes readjusting to the light. Or lack there of.

What on earth...?

Where was the sun? The trees? And were those, against the dark sky, mountains? Last time I checked I lived in Kentucky, not Tennessee! What-

I threw a hand in front of my eyes, smudging the lenses of my glasses as a bright white light came from the distance. I shut my eyes in an attempt to clear the dark spots crossing my vision, only to pause in a moment of horror before quickly attempting to scramble away.

Headlights. I was in the middle of the street and those were headlights.

I tried to get up only to slide on the strap of my bag and tumble to the ground, head cracking against road hard enough to make the world blur.

Oh shit, shit-shit-shit.

It was almost blinding, why the _hell_ did I wear black-

I threw my arms over my head and waited for the impact. Surprisingly enough, it came. And, in case you're curious, it hurt. Badly.

* * *

It was odd how many awkward silences the Winchesters had, despite Sam's hatred of them. Everything about them – the tense pauses, the half-started words that faded into a muttered, "Nevermind," the avoiding stares.

But, as fate would have it, every silence between Sam and his brother was now an awkward one. Or an uncomfortable one. He mournfully reminisced on the days when Dean would sing along to his crappy cassette tapes, thumping his fingers on the steering wheel and ignoring Sam when he said to turn the music down because he was _trying_ to sleep before their next case.

Of course it wasn't like that now – he had started the Apocalypse after all and royally screwed the world up, not to mention his relationship with his brother.

So all he could do was think of the hundred things he wanted to say and a million things he shouldn't.

Dean hadn't even turned the radio on, and Sam couldn't help but feel like the past four hours had been one long pause between arguments. Because of course there would be one – Sam couldn't be sorry enough, Dean wouldn't trust him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Even if they were hunting together again – and he was surprised even that had occurred, it didn't mean Dean could trust him, really. When he'd gone to give the knife back, Sam had thought – for a fleeting moment – that his own brother was going to stab him.

And to be honest? He wouldn't have blamed him. He had started the _Apocalypse_. If the world ended – if all of mankind died – it would be his, Samuel Winchester's fault.

Looking out over the Impala's dash, he couldn't help but wonder what had really made Dean change his mind.

Of course, the fact that something suddenly appeared in the middle of the street kind of derailed that train of thought.

"Dean-!" He shouted, sitting up suddenly, even as the tires squealed and Dean cursed like a sailor beside him. The tall brunette was thrown forward, the seat belt pressing so tightly against his ribs that it hurt, and he winced as a sound was heard.

THUMP.

"Shit," Dean muttered, unbuckling and opening the door in one smooth motion. Sam sighed, doing the same even if he fumbled with the car's door, rubbing his chest. It was so going to bruise, and he couldn't help but be reminded of his last bad car crash.

No, bad thoughts, stay on task.

He walked around to the front and his eyebrows rose – it wasn't an animal, like he'd assumed, or a werewolf or any other supernatural creepy crawly (or an obvious-looking supernatural creepy crawly at least). It was just a girl – a kid, at that.

And they'd just hit her with a car.

Sam bent down, lips pursing as he noticed a pair of shattered glasses a little ways away from her head, corresponding scratch marks from the broken lenses on her face. Blood was trickling from the corners of her mouth and she would have some serious bruises tomorrow, but he felt for a pulse and thankfully she was alive. So they'd only thumped her.

He glanced up at Dean and nodded when he motioned to the teeth. The taller male raised the girl's upper lip – normal gums. So, not a vampire then. He reached into his pocket, fumbling for the little glass container of holy water, but it had no effect. He hadn't thought so anyway. Since when did demon's fall unconscious?

"Silver?" Sam questioned, holding his hand out. His older brother grunted, placing a knife in his hands. He knicked the girl's arm, pausing even as their was no reaction.

"She's just a human." He announced. Dean snorted.

"Yeah, one we just hit with our car. Are there even any hospitals around here?" He asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Sam shook his head.

"Probably not – there probably isn't even a gas station for another fourty-five minutes or so." He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stood up, looking down at the girl again. "And she-" He gestured towards her, "Did just come out of no where."

"What," Dean prompted, "you think she could be something?" Sam could already hear the paranoia in his brother's voice.

Well, at least it wasn't scathing. Or hatred. And they were talking, at least. Even if it was about a little girl they'd just hit with their car.

"Shit, she's got to be what, thirteen?" Dean grumbled, crouching and turned the girl's head. She was pale, but aside from some cuts and the bruises that were beginning to develop, she looked fine. Unconscious, but fine. There was a only a little bit of blood in her hair, a dark brown color that was cut in an uneven and ugly style, as though a four-year-old with scissors had done it.

"Should we just drive her to the nearest hospital?" Sam questioned, picking up the girls bag and looking inside it for some form of ID. He managed to find the third Harry Potter book – his own personal favorite, chapstick, a sketchbook and a wallet. While the wallet only had a few twenties in it, it also had a library card. There was a small picture of the girl – and even though in the photo, her hair was longer and cut even, the two shared the same round face and beauty marks – one by her eye and the other by her mouth.

"Her name's Ariel... Royle?" He informed his brother, pronouncing her last name as if it was royal. "She's 18."

Dean whistled. "Not only did we hit the little mermaid, but she's apparently a midget." He commented with a grin. Sam felt his shoulders slump slightly in relief – his brother was acting normal again, thank God. He didn't know how much more of the hardened, untrusting and morose guy he could take without going crazy and begging on his hands and knees for forgiveness.

"Let's load her up, drop her off at her house or something when she wakes up." He continued, nodding at the Impala. Sam raised an eyebrow, surprised that they weren't going to just call an ambulance, but of course they weren't going to leave the poor girl in the middle of an abandoned highway at night after they'd nearly run her over.

They were hunters, not assholes. Even if they (he) did start the Apocalypse.

Sam glanced around, shivering slightly as single gust of wind blew. Where had the girl – Ariel – come from, anyway? Nothing was around for miles, aside from mountains and the occasional deer.

Maybe they didn't need to look for their next case – maybe they'd just found it.

* * *

**So I hoped you liked the first chapter! Please note that this takes place shortly after 'The End' in season five. Feel free to ask if you have any questions and review if you'd like ouo I'll update as soon as I can but I'm not one to have a set schedule. Thanks for reading~!**

**Song of the Chapter :: Emily Autumn - One Foot in Front of the Other**


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